


Three Scoops for Gluttony

by donutwolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Belly Kink, Chubby Shiro, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Feedism, Fluff and Kink, Humiliation, Kink Exploration, M/M, Public Kink, Stuffing, Sub Shiro (Voltron), Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 10:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15661227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutwolf/pseuds/donutwolf
Summary: There’s only one thing that makes the yearly company barbecue worth attending, and that, of course, is the food.Well, two things--Shiroandthe food.





	Three Scoops for Gluttony

**Author's Note:**

> Just needed some big fat Shiro enjoying a nice summery bbq fic, so here ya go. I thought about this as a sort of sequel to [Big Spoon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10238138), but it can just as easily be read as a standalone. Heed the tags and enjoy!

That last glass of wine had been enough--Keith could now, without a doubt, admit he was flat out drunk. He slumped down on a sunbed, letting the world settle before slowly tipping over and sinking into the cushions. They felt like clouds, soft and billowing, and he snuggled in with a sigh.  _ Comfy _ , he thought idly, letting the buzz of alcohol in his blood lull him into a pleasant high.

Keith would be the first one to say these kinds of social gatherings were not for him. Shiro’s company was small enough to throw casual events like this and actually pull it off, well enough that it had become an annual thing. The summer barbecue at the boss man’s backyard was a highpoint of the year for many, and while attendance was not mandatory, it was generally frowned upon not to at least make an appearance.

The first time Keith had attended had been a year and a half into their relationship, after his sophomore year. It hadn’t been a complete disaster, but awkward enough that Keith had vowed never to repeat the experience--and yet, here he was, a freshly graduated art major still without a proper job, trying to mix in with the smart clad middle class families as Shiro’s boyfriend. His  _ partner _ . In his dark, ripped jeans and a black sleeveless tee, he still stuck out like a sore thumb.

So, after a few hours of listening to pleasantries and company talk, he’d been more than ready to retreat into a less crowded area by the pool and leave Shiro to handle the socializing. Watching him charm the socks off his coworkers’ spouses while Keith hovered by his side was only fun for so long; after that, it was better to bow out and drink up.

He pulled his thoughts back to present, letting his eyes scan the crowd milling about on the other side of the pool. He had no trouble finding Shiro; he had always been easy to spot because of his stature, standing half a head taller than the rest of them, but one thing Keith had noticed lately was he never strayed too far off the buffet. And true enough, he caught Shiro at the edge of the lawn where the backyard kitchen was set up, his cheeks bulging with food as he polished off a hot dog loaded with condiments.

Well, there was one thing that made the social nightmare worth bearing.

He’d known what trouble he was in for the moment Shiro had stepped out of their bedroom and given him a sly smile--there was no way Shiro hadn’t chosen his outfit particularly to torture him. The khaki shorts were snug around his massive thighs, the off-white tank wrapping tightly around his waist, and the short sleeved dress shirt was so obviously small he’d left it unbuttoned; it all seemed designed to show off the round belly that dominated his middle, pushing out between the lapels to hang over his belt.

“How do I look?” he’d asked, barely holding back his grin at Keith’s stricken face.

Words weren’t Keith’s strongest point. Despite years of practice, he still had trouble telling Shiro what he wanted--how much his growing gut turned him on, to the point where seeing him like this filled Keith with insatiable lust. So he spoke his opinion with a squeeze of his hands, grabbing onto Shiro’s waist while murmuring against his lips, “Good. Very, very good,” and hoped he made himself clear.

Now, as he watched Shiro lift a can of beer to his lips and drain it, he could barely keep still. The movement pulled the fabric of his tank tight; he’d been eating his way through the buffet all night, moaning at the impeccably grilled burgers and perfect potato salad, and it showed. His stomach curved out under his chest in a perfect arch, so deliciously round it made Keith flush with heat. As he drank, he rested his hand on his belly, a casual gesture that nevertheless shot a spark running down Keith’s spine--he looked bigger than ever, a prime specimen of an ex-soldier gone soft with the luxuries of a steady desk job.

As if sensing his gaze, Shiro turned his head; he glanced around the pool, frowning, but when their eyes met over the pool, his face brightened up again. And--although Keith was pretty sure he was being nonchalant and not  _ that _ obvious in his staring, Shiro’s smile spread into a knowing grin as he waved at him, giving his bulging stomach a telling brush as he lowered his hand.

_God._

Keith swallowed, trying to shake off the bad thoughts as Shiro excused himself from the company around him, then made his way to Keith’s hideaway spot--but not without making a detour to get another beer, and a heaping cone of fries from the kitchen staff. Keith could barely contain his expression when Shiro stopped next to his sunbed, towering over him in all his well fed glory.

“Hey,” Shiro said.

“Hey,” he replied back, like an idiot who was much too preoccupied with thoughts of his boyfriend’s bottomless stomach to think of a better comeback line.

Not that his mind was working better now--the low angle offered him a great view of Shiro’s bulk, his jutting gut and meaty pecs, crowned by a soft chin and a matching smile. It never ceased to impress him how big Shiro had gotten, how the years of indulgence had changed his body. It was getting harder to remember him ever being that muscle bound jock of his army days--the set of his shoulders was still the widest part of him, but his waist was starting to catch up, and quick.

“You feeling okay?” Shiro asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

“I’m fine.” Keith licked his lips as he looked up. “At least now that you’re here.”

Shiro’s eyes darted to his mouth, the color on his beer-flushed cheeks deepening. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

It didn’t sound like an accusation; he turned to take a seat next to Keith, and Keith found himself apologizing anyway. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his legs up to make room for Shiro. “Needed a break from all that small talk.”

Shiro started to laugh, but it was cut short when the wooden frame gave an ominous crack under him. Both of them froze, Shiro with his hands up in the air like he was ready to spring up the moment the framing caved. They shared a look; Keith bit back a snort, and Shiro cringed.

“I think it’ll hold,” Keith managed to say, his hand on Shiro’s thigh before he realized he had moved it.

“Yeesh, that would’ve been bad.” Shiro shook his head, but relaxed, easing down in the space Keith left had him.

He hummed, rubbing his hand along Shiro’s leg; he watched Shiro pluck several fries from the cone and plop them into his mouth. Chewing had the effect of making his double chin all the more evident, and Keith had to fight against the urge to pull him down for a kiss, just to nuzzle against that plump jawline.

“Yeah, pretty bad. But not that surprising, really...”

Shiro choked on his fries. “Hey, I’m not that big yet,” he protested.

“ _ Yet. _ ”

He let the word linger in the air as he gave Shiro’s thigh a squeeze, then walked his fingers up to the thick set of his belly roll, poking it where it spread against his lap. Shiro sucked in a breath and glanced down, then raised a brow at him; a hint of a grin was tugging at his lips, like he couldn’t decide if he was more surprised or amused.

“You’re drunk.”

Keith scoffed. “And you’re not?”

“Not as drunk as you.”

Keith shrugged loosely. “Mmh, well, you’ve been busy sampling the rest of the spread.” His palm smoothed over the tight stretch of Shiro’s tank, pushing at his belly gently, marveling at its heft. “Too busy eating.”

Shiro burst out laughing. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk off you ass. How many glasses of that wine did you have?”

Keith flushed, his voice a tad sharper as he countered, “How many hot dogs did  _ you _ have?”

Caught off guard, Shiro started answering. “I wasn’t counting--”

“Neither was I,” Keith said. “But if I had to guess, I’d say you’ve had--at least four?” He sat up as he kept talking, sliding his arms around Shiro, feeling the tension in his back, his sharp breathing. Through the wine buzz, he felt hyper aware yet totally focused, riding the thrill of putting Shiro in the spot like this--secretly in the open, his grip on Shiro’s love handles hidden within their embrace. “Am I close?”

Shiro shuddered, his eyes closing for a moment, and Keith felt like he was vibrating in his skin, caught up in the twist of Shiro’s lips, the squishy flesh under his palms.

“Maybe.”

He held back a gasp, turning it into a hum, trying to stay on top. “Impressive. All that food--burgers and beers and fries and what not, crammed up in here...” He squeezed Shiro’s stomach lightly--lightly but hard enough to feel the bloated swell under a layer of flab covering it. He was all but crawled over Shiro’s back, just inches away from losing it, and still... “No wonder even chairs are starting to protest under all this.”

Shiro let out a sharp exhale; he wasn’t laughing anymore, and his silence was charged, punctuated by little twitches and shivers that went through his body. Maybe it was the drinking making both of them reckless, but Keith was suddenly vividly aware of Shiro’s arousal, that helpless need that made him stay still while Keith snuck his fingers between the rolls on his waist.

“Maybe we should go home,” Shiro said, his voice a rough whisper.

A moment ago, Keith would have said yes. Now, he leaned closer to Shiro’s ear and said, “Maybe you should finish those fries and we could go see about that ice cream everyone’s been raving about?”

He waited for his proposal to sink in. Shiro’s face was red when he turned in Keith’s arms, his gaze heavy with booze and desire. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he kissed him, fierce like sealing a deal.

“If that’s what you want,” Shiro said, his eyes burning as he looked at Keith.

Keith kissed him again before settling back down, quick and heated, not trusting himself to stay too close. He was keenly aware of the party around them--they both were, that was part of the game. Excitement lifted him higher like bubbles in champagne, light and heady and intoxicating as he watched Shiro take a long drink from his can, burping under his breath before snatching a fry from the cone and passing it to his lips.

Shiro was a meticulous eater; he altered between sips of beer and a handful of fries, making his steady way through the serving. But he was slower than usual, and Keith could see why--he could see how full he already was, struggling to add more to his bloated gut. From his perch, Keith had the perfect side view of Shiro’s girth, the thickness of the rolls that wrapped around his waist, making him look as soft as he was big. Underneath all the blubber, he still had the frame of a soldier; strong arms, wide back, legs built and powerful enough to handle his bulk. But the lines were all blurred, buried under doughy flesh and heavy rolls, and that gut that never seemed satisfied no matter how much he fed it.

That really was impressive, and infinitely erotic.

“You sure you can even fit ice cream in there?” Keith asked when Shiro scraped at the bottom of the cone, his breathing labored and face flushed.

Shiro answered by upending the crumbs straight into his mouth, giving Keith a victorious smile as he crumpled the empty cone in his hand. “There’s always room for ice cream,” he said, patting his gut until a hiccup slipped past his lips.

Keith hummed. His glanced at Shiro’s hand where it rested on top of his gut, gently kneading the swell of it in a way that lacked all self consciousness. He looked absolutely food-drunk, a hedonistic portrayal of an ex-jock who fell in love with gluttony.

And all he had to do to get Shiro to eat more was ask.

“Well then, shall we?”

Shiro grunted as he got up, the bed frame creaking like it was relieved to be free of his weight. Keith allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view--Shiro’s sinfully gorged gut stretching his tank to its limits, the lapels of his dress shirt barely covering his sides--before forcing himself to get up. He only half-faked losing his balance and stumbling; getting up so quickly made him woozy, and what better place to faint than in Shiro’s arms, face pillowed against his soft chest.

“Sorry,” he said, hiding his grin on Shiro’s shoulder.

“You little lush,” Shiro teased, “always causing a scene.”

Keith stepped away, laughing, his hands brushing down Shiro’s front. “Causing a scene? I don’t know her.” He moved next to Shiro and linked their arms, pressing close to his side; they were just about to set off when he cocked his head, giving Shiro a lingering look. “You’re quite the scene yourself,” he said, reaching out to adjust his shirt, an excuse for one last touch.

“And you claim no part in that?”

Keith bit on his lip, but recovered quickly. “I only asked you to finish those fries just now--everything before that, you can blame on your own gluttony.” He gave a pat on the roundest part of Shiro’s gut, then tugged him along.

It was difficult to stay sharp and focused when he was glued to Shiro’s side like this, but he was reluctant to go back to holding hands. Luckily, most people at the party seemed to be in the same boat as them, or on their way there--the deck chairs were filling up with people nursing their full bellies, people resting their rosy cheeks against their hands with tipsy smiles from too many drinks. Most families had already left as well--it must be getting later than he’d thought.

Few people paid them attention when they made their way to the ice cream cart, but every one of those encounters started with a wide-eyed look to Shiro’s gut, even if no one dared to make a comment. Keith expected it every time he heard another one of Shiro’s coworkers call him in a greeting as they passed, and each time it didn’t happen, he felt the same mix of disappointment and guilt, that anticipation turning to antsiness.

“Did you see the way he was staring at you?” he whispered to Shiro’s ear when they left the latest intrusion behind. “People are too polite to say anything, but boy do they look.”

Shiro chuckled, breathless from the short walk. “Well, it’s a glorious gut,” he said, rubbing his belly proudly.

“It looks pregnant with too much food,” Keith said back, “swollen like you’d be carrying a child, but everyone knows it’s all just food and fat.”

He watched Shiro’s face closely, living for the hitch in his breathing, the color rising to his cheeks at the words. They had reached the cart set up for the ice cream service, but right before they stepped under its shade, Keith stopped. He turned them face to face, hands on Shiro’s belly, searching his eyes for signs of hurt.

But before he could get a proper look, Shiro kissed him, full on with hands around him, pulling him flush against his body. Keith was sure he heard a whoop or two, but then again, the blood was humming in his ears so loud he might have imagined it. As they broke away, Shiro wasn’t the only one breathing hard.

“I’m sorry people are too polite to insult me, darling,” Shiro said in a low voice, so sincere Keith almost fell for it. Then Shiro’s lips quirked up and his smile spread into a grin, and they both started laughing.

“Maybe you were right--we should take a cab and go home.”

“Without the ice cream?”

Keith shook his head, tugging Shiro to follow after him. “I didn’t say that.”

He led Shiro to the cart where a young lady was operating the service. The cart was a novelty, brought in for the first time this year, and from the looks of it, it had been a success. They scanned the list of available flavors from a blackboard; some names had been crossed out, but Keith found what he wanted and straightened up.

“What can I get you, fellas?” the service girl piped up, too cheerful for so late in the evening.

Keith gave Shiro a glance, then said, “He’ll have caramel whiskey and rum raisin, in a cone, please--”

“And add a scoop of white chocolate to that if you can, thanks,” Shiro added before he was properly finished.

The girl didn’t even blink. “Sure thing, big guy.” Her eyes turned back to Keith. “How about you? Find anything you like on the list?”

Keith opened his mouth, but Shiro was faster, supplying his answer for him. “Give him a scoop of black vanilla, with whipped cream on top.”

Keith frowned; he’d gotten the flavor right, but-- “Whipped cream?”

“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

The girl’s eyes darted from one of them to the other until Keith nodded, sighing. “Okay.”

The girl did the hard part first; she rolled out a perfectly balanced three scoop cone for Shiro, blushing as he praised her. Then she made one for Keith and handed to him, wishing them a pleasant evening.

Keith looked at his cone next to Shiro’s. Even with the cream on top, it fell short of the magnificent tower of Shiro’s ice cream.

“You sure you can eat all that?”

“We’ll see,” Shiro replied with a grin.

Keith hadn’t planned this thing farther than the ice cream. They started towards the parking lot which lead to the main gate, walking at a leisurely pace, but Keith still found his attention slipping; he wanted to stop to properly appreciate the way Shiro delved into his monster cone, moaning and humming at the taste, but he was distracted enough as it was. He’d barely tasted his own ice cream, only realizing he’d finished it when there was just the cone left.

“You wanna try this?” Shiro asked when he caught him staring. “It’s a really nice combination.”

Keith licked his lips, catching the taste of whipped cream there. “I don’t doubt it,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “But that one is all for you.”

Shiro accepted his challenge with a grin, looking so greedy and thick with his paunchy gut jiggling in front of him, the tower of ice cream in his hand raised high like a beacon. Keith had to look away to control himself--all he wanted was to crawl all over Shiro and worship the fuck out of his massive gut, right here, right now; it would be a reward for the both of them.

He was still lost in his desires when they rounded the corner and reached the front yard. Keith hadn’t realized there might be people there, hadn’t really expected anything, so seeing Shiro’s boss exchanging goodbyes with a couple of his colleagues caught him by surprise. Even Shiro froze for a second, then cursed under his breath.

“We need to go say our goodbyes,” he said with a frown. “Can’t believe I almost forgot.”

“Ah, of course.”

Shiro was quick to collect himself; he rolled his shoulders back and smoothed his frown, and when the couple loaded into their cars and left, Shiro led them to his boss.

“Mr. Stein! Thank you so much for having us,” Shiro said, bowing slightly as he shook the boss man’s hand.

Mr. Stein was a jovial fellow, a man nearing his sixties with a friendly smile, a keen sense of business, and a massive, overhanging gut. He clasped Shiro’s hand between his palms and said, “The pleasure is all mine.” Then his eyes dropped to Shiro’s waist, and he chuckled, taking in the damage of the evening. “Looks like you found the food to your liking? Damn son, you’re gonna be my size in no time if you don’t watch yourself.” He gave Shiro’s belly a pat, all in good jest.

“Ah, yes, sir,” Shiro stammered, flustered. “The catering this year was outstanding--everything was delicious.”

Mr. Stein laughed, turning his gaze on Keith; Keith had always felt a little unnerved in his presence, if only for the size of his paunch--he couldn’t help his cursed brain from making note of it. Now with the direct comparison to Shiro, his mind was already trying to size them up, too distracted to be prepared for what Mr. Stein was about to say. 

“You’ve been feeding this one a bit too well, Mr. Kogane.” The man shook his hand, smiling at him, then continued in a mock whisper that Shiro could no doubt hear. “Tell him to lay off the ice cream or you’ll kick him out of bed--that should motivate him to lose a few.”

Keith stared at him, blinking. “Ah, no need, sir.” He glanced at Shiro, who looked mortified, except for that dark glimmer in his eyes that Keith recognized; he gave him a nod and shook his hand free of Mr. Stein’s. “He’s fine just as he is.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Keith linked their arms again and pressed against Shiro’s side, his hand settling on the curve of his belly like a claim of land. “You know what they say--a man without gut is like a house without a porch. It’s a feature, not a bug.”

He didn’t turn his eyes away even when he felt his cheeks burning; the boss man looked at them for a moment, then burst out laughing. “That’s a good one! Gonna remember that when it’s my head on the chopping block.” He gave Keith a clap on the shoulder and winked. “Now, get this boy home safe--he looks like he needs a good night’s sleep to beat that meal.”

Neither of them moved after Mr. Stein sauntered off, then Shiro gave their linked arms a tug and they walked out to the street. The laughter came later when they were safely outside, bubbling out and taking over them, until they were clinging to each other, breathless and giddy. Keith pulled Shiro into the first dark corner they came across and kissed him, greedy hands restless on Shiro’s hips. The taste of sugar and rum on his lips, the heat of his skin under Keith’s palms--he felt high just from the contact, spinning out of control.

“We should call that cab,” he breathed out, resting his hands on Shiro’s gut in an act of putting distance between. But when he looked up to Shiro’s face, his resolution melted into a smile. “God, you’re a mess. No wonder you tasted like ice cream.”

Shiro wiped at his mouth and his hand came away with ice cream, smears of it still spread across his round cheeks. Keith had blissfully forgotten about the rest of the cone; despite Shiro’s valiant efforts, it had melted down the sides, running down his wrist. Somehow, he’d managed to get it on his face too, and Keith snorted, trying to wipe it off before finding his phone.

“So, a porch, huh?”

Keith stopped, catching Shiro smirking at him. “Just the first thing that came to mind,” he said, pulling a face.

“Never heard of that saying,” Shiro continued. “You sure you didn’t just make that up?”

“Hey, leave me alone.”

“You know, I think you just came out to my boss as a chubby chaser.”

Keith felt his ears prickle, shame casting through him like a heat wave. “God, don’t remind me.”

But Shiro just chuckled. “Don’t worry, I think he can keep a secret.”

Keith pulled up the cab number and glanced at Shiro, catching him licking his fingers as he contemplated the rest of his melted cone. He looked visibly flustered, his chest heaving with short breaths, his swollen gut like a small mountain rising from his middle. He wasn’t quite there with Mr. Stein’s massive size, but--Keith could see what he’d meant.

He’d only need a little push and he’d keep eating until he got there.

“You still gonna finish that?”

Shiro’s gaze darted to him. “I’m considering it.”

Keith licked his lips, fingers clutched on his phone, eyes locked on Shiro’s. “I don’t think they’ll let you ride with it, so--you’ve got until the cab’s here to decide.”

He saw a flicker in Shiro’s expression, and knew he’d caught the bait. “Duly noted.” Shiro nodded, lips spreading into a smile as Keith dialed the number and pressed the phone to his ear.

They’d have to tip the driver well--whether Shiro finished or not, the ride back would be messy.

**Author's Note:**

> More chubby Voltron nonsense on tumblr @[blackdonuthole](https://blackdonuthole.tumblr.com/).


End file.
